How to Deal with Sawyer
by Cynthia Arrow
Summary: The reporter asked them, How do you deal with Sawyer? This is as much a comment on the other eleven characters as it is on the man himself. The rating is only really for the final two section the rest is T.


Disclaimer: These wonderful folk belong to J.J. Abrams, et al.

Rating: M (Both Kate and Sawyer's sections are the only ones that contain discussed graphic sexuality; the rest are at T level, for language only)

Spoilers: General for season one, especially if you still don't know what Sawyer's real name is. The most positive of all scenarios in speculation for season two.

How to Deal with Sawyer

Eleven months after the raft washed ashore with three dehydrated, starved, and exhausted passengers—one with a bullet still lodged in his arm—the remnants of Oceanic Flight 815 were rescued and greeted with a firestorm of press. Journalists slowly uncovered their past lives, but what they were most drawn to was questions about the island. After they got tired of where and when and how questions, they began with the whats and whos. Relationship questions fascinated them to no end, but the biggest celebrity to come out of the whole thing was the one character the rest of the survivors wouldn't have counted on, at least not in the way it happened. They assumed he'd soak up the spotlight and play up his image of the reckless bad boy. Well, his image had come through all right, but only because of the difficult relationship he had with the media. He was cooperative at first, but soon, after he threatened his fifth camera man, shoved his third reporter, and punched the guy from 'Entertainment Tonight,' they stopped asking him questions. Instead, they turned to asking the others. "So," the man from 'People' asked, "How do you deal with James 'Sawyer' Ford?"

_Jack_

"Pain."

"He was a pain?"

"Yeah. But I mean you had to put him in pain before he'd let you do anything for him. The bullet in his arm was the best thing for us all."

He'd been near death when they pulled him ashore. Jack thought he saw another Boone in front of him: another amputation, another painful death instead. But Sawyer was a tough bastard, and he meant to get through it. He was determined not to die with Jack watching him, weak and helpless.

But he had been weak and helpless for a while, so sick that he didn't mind having Jack help piss or massage his back and feed him fruit. After he was well enough to bark threats at everyone around him, he had retained a grudging respect for Jack. He did what Jack wanted him to do. But somehow, he also gave Jack hell about it, relenting only when Jack would press his large thumb into Sawyer's arm just under the wound and say, "Do you want this damn thing going gangrene on you? Do you?" Jack knew it was necessary, this pain and threat from him, in order for Sawyer to feel comfortable releasing control. He could only give power to someone meaner than he was. Long after the wound did its makeshift healing, Jack could still grasp Sawyer's arm with his thumb and forefinger and get him to comply with whatever he was resisting. Because Jack used that gesture only sparingly.

_Sayid and Shannon_

Though Shannon eyed the reporter warily, the former member of the Republican Guard laughed when the West Coast twerp from 'People' gave him Jack's quote.

"No. Pain doesn't work. He likes pain. What he's ill-equipped to combat is manipulation through psychology."

One day, Jack came to Sayid, frustrated. He'd developed a strange attachment to Sawyer now that he'd nursed him through hell and back. But he couldn't get the man to go back out to the beach. He had said he wasn't scared, but he obviously was. He even resisted leaving the caves.

So Sayid sent Jack to wake him up and tell him precisely what he'd seen Sayid doing, or at least what Sayid would be doing when Sawyer got there. Sawyer went out to the beach to find Sayid rifling through his things, tossing some of them into the fire. Rose was passing out other objects to the rest of the survivors as Charlie threw a few items into the water. So Sawyer yelled, this time not the frustrated pitiful yell of an invalid but the angry shout of a tough son of a bitch who was going to kill someone. He took one swing at Sayid, landing the punch and screaming in pain with his bad arm clutched in his good hand. Jack had followed him, and he came upon the scene to find Sayid nearly killing himself to conceal a smile as he completely surrendered what was left of Sawyer's plunder. Since he'd gone, and since he'd come back, they had only stolen what they needed, although it left the stash rather sad. But Jack helped him drag his stuff out of the water and fire and Sayid's hands and back to where it had come from, and that was where Sawyer slept thereafter.

The reporter turned and asked the beautiful but slightly scary newly-made Mrs. Jarrah the same question. Sayid laughed, getting up to retrieve some drinks for their guest, as Shannon rolled her eyes: "Unless you like being physically assaulted, you just stay out of his way. But I think you tabloid people already figured that out."

_Hurley_

"Who?"

"James Ford. You called him Sawyer."

"Sawyer? Dude, he's not so bad. You've just got to be cool, you know. Humor: now that's what gets me by in life." The reporter thought to himself, That and a lot of money.

Hurley didn't tell the man on the other end of the line that he had been Sawyer's regular companion when he was recuperating. Though Sawyer delighted in yelling at Jack, he had a hard time getting too angry with Hurley. Hurley was persistent, carrying a book with him every day to sit and watch over Sawyer when Jack was too tired or Sun was too caught up in enjoying the island with her husband. He would make small talk with him, light and easy, and then he'd read. He never asked Sawyer if he wanted him to read to him. But one day, Sawyer asked him about his book, and Hurley gave him a lengthy and sarcastically funny commentary. The next day, he wanted to hear how the plot continued. So for the better part of a month, Hurley would bring a book—one of Sawyer's stash, actually—and read to him while he lay flat on his back and ignored the way his arm swelled and ached. They liked Agatha Christie the best. Charlie said Hurley's British accent was awful, but that's what made it funny. And they could never seem to solve the mystery.

"By the way, everyone's obsessed with the lottery thing. No one's written about the fact that I lost 75 pounds on that island."

The reporter was momentarily silent. Of course he lost 75 pounds. He lived on fruit for a year.

_Charlie and Claire_

Charlie was maybe the fourth biggest celebrity after the asshole, the convict, and the hero doctor. The former bassist for Driveshaft had a cult of fans that worshipped him because he'd died. They were a little upset when the reality sunk in that he was alive and well and raising a baby with a strange little Australian girl. Whoever wanted Jimmie Hendrix to come back to life and be so damn predictable and normal? And he was no Jimmie Hendrix. Hell, he hadn't even OD'd.

Their house was filled with crucifixes, but apparently no one was interested in how he'd promised God to be a good Catholic if he ever got back to the real world.

"Sawyer?" Claire said.

Charlie said, "They want to know what sort of pain in the ass he was. Well, let me tell you: the only way to get along with Sawyer is to let him know you realize he's stronger than you."

Claire smiled, hiding her mouth, but not before Charlie caught a glimpse of her face.

He had been stupid once. Sawyer had made a lewd suggestion to Claire, one that she didn't take seriously but that Charlie found the need to try and punish him for. It was as much for his own ego as anything else. He hit him once and then he got himself thoroughly beaten by a man still recovering from nearly dying. Sawyer only hit him enough to prove his point, and it was a point well proven.

Claire said, "That ass-whooping you got was a great way to accomplish your goal."

"Well, we both got to see who was the stronger of the two, didn't we?"

With that she couldn't argue. The reporter then wanted to hear Claire's strategy for coping with Sawyer.

Charlie said, "She didn't have anything to do with that asshole other than have him read to her baby. She didn't have a strategy."

"Oh, I had a very effective one."

The reporter looked at her smirking face eagerly. "Yes?"

"Blackmail."

She'd caught him in the act, not that she wanted to particularly. Stumbling upon anyone pleasuring himself was bound to be unpleasant. She could only be grateful he was old fashioned enough not to physically threaten a woman. But he wasn't old fashioned enough not to jerk off watching Kate bathing in the pool. She didn't even have to use the word blackmail with him. He just started bringing her things. She was good. She didn't ask for too much or draw suspicion. And she didn't even smirk once at him. She figured he'd suffered enough being caught. After all, he'd actually appeared embarrassed.

The reporter pressed her for details, but she refused. She also refused to tell Charlie. She was nothing if not trustworthy.

_Locke_

"So, what did the others tell you?"

They had been mortally afraid of John Locke. He was the reputed crazy jungle commando, but he had a calm that unnerved them all. And he was living in one of the flyover states. So 'People' sent an unlikely person to do his job: Kandi, a young rock reporter with an oversized persona and a fascination with what she knew of Locke's philosophical stance on everything. As luck would have it, Kandi did most of her work from her home just an hour away from Locke.

The girl was on his couch, flipping through her notes and repeating everything, noting how he didn't regard her all that oddly, even with all the hardware she'd pierced into her head. In fact, he didn't give away any emotion.

He said, "Mr. Pace is wrong. Maybe not exactly, since he couldn't stand up to him. But if you can, you must, whether you have to follow through or not."

Since the day he'd taken out his set of knives, Sawyer had held a sort of respect for the man, viewing him perhaps in the same wary way that the reporters did. Locke never once laid a hand on him. He didn't have to. Just believing him about that stupid boar that was after him was enough.

"Oh, but I forget. I did lay a hand on him once."

Locke had helped dig out the bullet. He was the only one besides Jack with a strong enough constitution and the right tools for the job.

"So he was afraid of you?" Kandi asked, and Locke's eyes betrayed a hint of shock at the not-so-well-hidden seduction in her voice.

"Yes, dear. But half of them were, and for no good reason. I'm just a harmless old man."

_Michael_

The main reporter on the story didn't want to go see Michael, either, and he didn't have to since Michael was in the territory of the East Coast branch. Michael had a reputation for being almost as hostile to reporters as Sawyer, but his information was important since he was on the raft. He had helped pull Sawyer out of the water and had kept him alive.

"I don't want to talk about my son," Michael said through the door.

"Neither do I," replied the East Coast reporter. "We want to know about James 'Sawyer' Ford."

So Michael stepped out into the hallway. "What do you want to know?"

"Sawyer is difficult. How did you manage to cooperate to build the raft with him? How in the world does a person get along with Sawyer?"

"You don't. He's only interested in one thing. Unless you can find a way to hang death or jail over his head, he ain't gonna talk to you."

"Excuse me?"

"Self-preservation. Why do you think he got on the raft? Why do you think he set off the flare that brought those bastards to steal my son? I don't fault him for that, okay. I wanted to be saved just as bad. But that's all it is for Sawyer—him, himself, and he. That's it."

He turned to go back into his apartment.

The reporter said, "Let me know, Mr. Dawson, if you're ever interested in us doing a feature on your boy."

"I'll tell you like I've told them all: he was a good boy. You want anything else, ask John Locke."

And he slammed the door.

_Jin and Sun_

The reporter had a Korean friend, and he had him in the room during the overseas speakerphone call. No one was sure how much English Jin knew, mainly because he had been rather reluctant to speak. Not that he made any real effort to keep his wife from speaking for them both.

"Who?"

"I believe you called him Sawyer."

"Oh, yes."

"Ma'am, we know Sawyer could be a little prejudiced. Was he hostile to you because you were Korean?"

"Hostile?"

"Mean."

"No." She took a lot of time to settle on what she said next. Her English was slow, having fallen out of use. Either that or she was just a cautious person. "He was not mean to me at all."

"No?"

"With Sawyer, you have to let it go. You have to ignore his personality and be as nice to him as you can. He's not so bad."

There was the sound of Korean in the background, and Sun spoke to her husband in annoyed tones. Or at least it sounded annoyed to the reporter. His friend was chuckling, however.

When the muttered argument stopped, the reporter asked Sun, "What does your husband say?"

"You have to speak Korean."

"What?"

"Not you. I mean, that was his tactic, as you say. If you can't understand what Sawyer's saying, he can't really intimidate or harass you. He leaves you alone."

After they got off the phone, the reporter looked at his friend. She confirmed that Sun had repeated Jin's answer, adding, "The husband thinks it's funny."

"What?"

"That Sawyer called her…well, he called her a rather un-p.c. word for Asian, but he ended up mooning over her…and wanting to fuck her."

_Kate_

They didn't think they'd get permission from Kate Austin's lawyer to do another interview. The prison was sick of the parade of reporters and so was Kate. It was not fun to be a celebrity in prison. They'd placed her in solitary confinement, and it was common knowledge that this was for her protection and that she resented the fact that she needed protection. So she let her lawyer handle the press, and she charged a high price, trying to build a nest egg to live on after she was paroled. She insisted on the main reporter for the story and not some flunkie, and she wanted a lot of money.

"Ms. Austin."

"Kate."

"Roger Parrish."

She slumped in front of him, smoking a cigarette. "Jack would kill me for this," she said.

He discovered after a few minutes of talking that while she hated reporters, she liked being out of her hole and she liked talking about the island. When the subject got around to Sawyer, he asked her the same question he's asked everyone else he'd spoken to so far. Like Locke, she wanted to hear their theories. She listened and nodded, smiling an inscrutable smile.

When he was done, she exhaled her smoke to the ceiling slowly. Finally, she said, "I tried them all. Didn't work."

"Why not?"

"The long version or the short?"

"Long."

"Let me see your list. Okay." She ticked them off on her fingers. "One, he likes pain but doesn't want you to know he likes it. Two, he's not as stupid as he looks. Three, he's impossible to ignore if he doesn't want you to. Four, he's incapable of acting buddy-buddy with anyone he's even remotely attracted to. Five, he wouldn't beat me up and, seven, he knew I couldn't kick his ass. I tried. Six, he wasn't ashamed of much in front of me. Eight, he's more bent on self-destruction than preservation, really. Nine and ten, I'm not a pure-as-the-driven-snow nurse, and I understand him perfectly when he talks. Maybe a little too perfectly. The short version is, he's a man. No offense, but there's only one thing a man wants from a woman like me." She tilted her head and raised her eyebrows at him.

"Are you saying you had sex with him?"

"Why else do you think I wanted so much money to get you out here today? Now, you can print what I'm about to tell you, or you can print the bare fact I just gave you and wait until my book comes out to tell the rest. Then I'll give you an exclusive preview and give you all the details. You need a minute to decide?"

"No. I'll print just what you tell me to."

"Good. Sex is enough for now. In reality, I placated him with blow jobs and in return he tried to act like a human being."

"Did you have a relationship?"

"I wouldn't call it that."

"Did you love him?"

"That's a nosy question."

"Well, considering the graphic nature of—"

"Don't come all unglued on me. Did I? No. Do I? Yes. But don't print that. You can print that he loves me, but he'll sue you for libel."

"Does he?"

"Go ask him," she said, and then her eyes shut down on him. "Mr. Godfrey will be talking to you about our deal. Guard, I'm ready to go."

_Sawyer_

The editors managed to reach him for comment before the piece ran. He actually listened, more out of curiosity than anything, they assumed, and he laughed only when he heard Kate's story. "She's a funny girl. I was never a human being, and she never set her mouth on my dick."

"With all due respect, why would she lie?"

"She's in jail, bored, surrounded by women. Maybe in light of her circumstances she doesn't want to remember where she liked for me to stick my tongue. But you can't print that anyway, can you?"

And they didn't, mainly because it was too vulgar for their readership and they didn't know who to believe. They simply alluded to a sexual relationship and hoped that would be enough. The rest of the castaway's words were plenty to confuse the issue as it was. But the story had its desired effect: James 'Sawyer' Ford was even more of a celebrity than he had been before, and there was now an even bigger thirst in the public for the kind of answers that nobody apparently had.


End file.
